


The Grave Robbers

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, masc agender gerard way, sorry but this is just a huge sobfest, the phrase gal pals is over used
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 10:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4475567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two shadows dancing in the night, a classical piano piece, cigar smoke. Three shadows in the moonlight, a rapid drum beat, the stench of pot smoke at three am. Four shadows, a broken record, the smoke from a broken fireplace. Two boys failing chemistry. One girl sneaking out at night to see her best friend. One girl versus her parents. Four teenage souls. The grave robbers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Grave Robbers

The girl sat on the bench, cigarette in hand. She was blowing smoke rings into the harsh black night, breathing in and out. Her breath was small white puffs against the sky.

Her pale skin was bright against the black, white against midnight blue, and alabaster against obsidian.

Her breathing was shallow, as if she was running from someone.

And she was.

She was sitting in a graveyard, in a bench underneath a willow tree, at two in the morning on a Wednesday. Her eyes closed as she smoked, almost as if this quiet, abyssal, bliss was her version of heaven.

And it was.

-

The two boys were lying down, fingers intertwined. They were listening to the Smashing Pumpkins on Pete's bed, and whispering to each other.

Pete's parents were currently unaware of what their son was doing in his bedroom, currently unaware of the horribly homosexual acts he was committing with his best friend. They were busy sipping wine on the back patio and talking about his college plans.

Pete's finger unhooked from Mikey's and began trailing down his stomach, resting on his navel, and began to tickle him.

Mikey stifled a laugh as the tickling got more intense, and eventually he was cackling and curled up on Pete's bed, trying not to laugh. Soon enough, he let a laugh fall from his lips, a laugh as soft as the petals from a daisy.

Pete's smile lit up the dim room, and Mikey's small grin lit up his world.

Mikey was his everything, he was his muse; he was his peach, his moon and his stars. Mikey was the blood pumping in his veins. He was his heartbeat when he was scared. He was literally everything in the world to him.

Pete meant the world to him as well, on a much larger scale. They met when Mikey was seconds away from jumping to his death in the middle of the night. He took him home, made him coffee, and he slept on the couch.

They had been friends since.

But Pete was a hurricane, and everywhere he went he was destined to ruin something. He hadn't ruined anything yet, but he had fallen in love with the boy he had saved.

Pete was always at the tip of his fingertips whenever he needed him; he was always going to show up in a bad situation with nothing more than a text to signal him.

His brown eyes were sparked with ambition. His fascination for music was amazing, and his bass playing was the best thing he had experienced.

His fingers were magical, the way they moved when he played, and it enchanted Mikey.

But they had to keep their love quiet.

-

Another girl was sitting on the roofing outside her window, eyes almost closed.

Her hazel eyes were cast toward the constellations glazing them, and she was thinking.

Her sketchbook sat next to her, blank and void, while her arms dotted with drawings she had done. Eyes, stars, hands, forests-everything you could imagine.

The paint palette sat on top of the sketchbook.

Her red hair stuck up everywhere, curls galore, and her freckled face was lit up by the full moon.

The candle next to her was flickering out, and the empty teacup in her hand was a fragile thing that she could drop at any moment.

But she didn't.

Why was she on the roof outside her bedroom?

Well because she was fighting her parents.

She had gotten into her dream school for her senior year.

An art school half an hour away that she could drive to.

Her parents said that it was a waste of her time, and that she would never get anywhere, but her instincts told her better.

She paid for all her supplies, down to the desk she used as a drafting table.

Her parents told her that art was a luxury, a talent, and not something they could provide her the supplies for. That it was a privilege to express herself, not a right.

And I suppose that they were right.

-

Mikey slid out Pete's window that morning at close to four, slipping onto his knees and running down the concrete stretch.

His eyes trained at the small grey house at the end of the road, running as fast as his feet could take him, to get there before his dad woke up.

He slid in through the back door, a move he had pulled so many times before.

He heard a voice over his shoulder, whispering his name.

"Why are you back so late?"

"Gee. Uh, fuck. I was at my friend's house. Uh, goodnight."

He shoved his way past Gerard and into his room, where he sunk into the black covers of his bed.

His mind was rushing, overthinking everything, cursing everything around him, even the sun.

He got his phone from his pocket and wrote out a text to Pete.

[4:15:57AM] m: cant sleep. cant stop thinking.

[4:16:40AM] p: u ok?

[4:17:10AM] m: no

[4:17:30AM] p: which house is urs

[4:17:56AM] m: grey

[4:18:12AM] p: ill be there as fast as a bike can take my little feet

Mikey sighed, knowing that he was just playing a game of tag with karma, falling in love with the boy who saved him.

[4:25:19AM] p: open your window

Mikey looked next to him to see the face of his boyfriend pressed against it, and he unlatched the thing and lifted it.

Pete slid in smoothly; it was just when there was a knock on his door everything began to unravel around him.

"Mikey? Can we talk?"

It was his brother again, and Pete ran to Mikey's closet to hide.

"I guess. I mean, I was trying to sleep."

"Don't lie. I can hear your phone vibrating.'

"Fine. Come in."

Gerard opened the door to see complete darkness, and Mikey switched on the light.

"Did I hear like, a door open before I came in? Just wanna know."

"Uh, no?"

"I did. Someone's in your closet. Who is it?"

"I can't tell you."

"Mikey if you were out getting high, I swear to god I'-"

"I wasn't. Come out." He said, busting the walls down around him, surrendering.

"Hi. I'm Pete?" Pete said, ducking his head out of the closet.

"Uh, is this like, a...thing? Are you guys hooking up or like, what?"

"N-no. He's like. My. Uh. Boyfriend." Mikey stammered.

"Oh. Cool." Gerard blinked to himself for a few seconds, thinking.

"Yeah. Can the hook-up like, get out of the closet?"

"Uh...Yeah."

Pete stepped out if the closet fully clothed in a hoodie, sweats, and a pair of battered converse that hadn't seen a closet in years.

"So. When did this all happen?"

"Well. Like, two years ago, when I was fourteen, I almost jumped off a bridge. And Pete found me before I jumped, and, he saved me. I crashed on his parent's couch, and well. A few months ago told me he liked me. I said I liked him back, obviously. And by a few months. I mean like, six months." Mikey explained.

"I'll leave you two alone. G'night, Mikes. Pete. ."

"G'night Gee." Mikey said, shooing him out of his bedroom.

Pete jumped onto Mikey's full-size bed, unzipping his hoodie and removing his sweats.

He slid under the covers and left Mikey to strip to his boxers.

Mikey tucked his long, lanky, body under the blankets next to Pete and turned off the lamp.

"I'm sorry I texted you. I didn't really like, assume you would come over. I've just caused trouble." He whispered.

"I'm here for you. Always."

"Always."

"Tell me what's wrong."

"The thing is, I'm not sure. So. This leaves us. "

"I'm afraid about us."

"Of course you are- I mean, we're only teenagers, and being teenagers is a dangerous thing- we don't get a say in our life decisions. We don't get a say in politics Who's president. Who's mayor. It's horrible. But we do get a say in ourselves. And who we are. "

"I know. It's just; I can't comprehend what happens around me. And I can't comprehend that after high school, I'll never be able to see you. I'll be too busy becoming a bullshit lawyer."

"And I'll be busy doing...nothing."

"Not nothing. You'll be changing the world, slowly, in true Mikeyway fashion."

"You don't know that. Hell, I don't know that."

"You're right. But I can feel it in my chest."

"Do you know what I can feel?"

"What?"

"The fact that I've been up since six am yesterday and it's currently four-thirty AM on a Wednesday and my head is foggy."

Silence from Pete's end of the conversation.

"Your life isn't insomniac nights where you're still drinking coffee at three because you know you won't be able to sleep."

"Yes it is. Come closer, Mikeyway."

"Fine."

Mikey scooted closer, to where he was eye to eye with Pete.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Pete. curled into. Mikey's side.

"That's enough pillow talk for tonight. Goodnight." He hummed into Mikey's chest.

"Night, Pete."

-

Ariel woke up against a headstone, in the middle of a graveyard.

It was five in the morning; the sun was just barely peeking over the horizon.

She tucked her badly dyed black hair behind her ear and searched her pocket for a box of cigarettes and a lighter.

"Thank god." She muttered, pulling out a box of Camel.

She lit it, pulling it to her lips and inhaling her demise.

She ran from the cemetery when she had put out the smoke against the same willow tree she sat under the night before.

She arrived at her house close to six, seeing as she went there by foot.

She braced herself to get yelled at the instant she unlocked the door, but instead it was silent.

She walked in the living room, where her parents laid on the couch, wrists hanging down.

Her jaw dropped.

"Mama, Dad...” She muttered, checking them for a pulse.

"Fuck, no pulse."

She grabbed her phone from her hoodie, and rapidly dialed 911.

"Hello? I need an ambulance. I just got home, and I came in to see my parents on the couch, unconscious. I checked for a pulse but they have none. Please. "

"What's the address, Miss?"

"Uh, it's, 4289 Brantley Ridge."

"Is this...Ariel?”

"Yes."

"Fuck. Okay, head next door. I'm sending an ambulance and some police your way. It's me, Mr. Way."

"Alright. I'll head over to your house."

The other end went silent as she shoved her phone back into her pocket and ran next door, holding back the tears that were sure to slip down her face.

She banged on the door of the grey house next door, yelling for Gerard or Mikey to let her in.

Gerard answered; hair disheveled, eyes tired, worn from school.

"Ariel? What are you doing here?"

"I have to come in. It's an emergency."

"Oh."

"My parents died, and I can't be in there."

"Fuck. Come in. Uh, make yourself comfortable. You can wake Mikey up, just like eight grade."

Ariel ran down the stairs to the Way's basement, boots clicking on the wooden slats

"Oi! Mikes! Get your ass up!" She yelled into his door.

Mikey woke up to an empty bed and an open window, the sheets still warm from where Pete had slept.  
 He squinted in the sunlight, reaching for his glasses, and groaned in response.

"Ariel? Is that you?"

"Yeah. Uh, let me in or something? I don't know. Gerard sent me to wake you up."

"Just like eighth grade."

"Yeah. Just like eighth grade." She smiled to herself, ducking her head.

He got up and opened the door, sliding on a pair of sweatpants and a ratty, threadbare Anthrax shirt.

"Hey, dude. So, why are you here?" He asked when he sat down at the table to eat.

"Well, I don't really wanna talk about it."

"Oh. Okay. I can deal with that."

"Thanks, dude."

"It's too early for us to be awake, six forty-five in the morning on Christmas break. But it’s cool." Mikey muttered, pouring what was most likely too much milk over his Lucky Charms. He could just text Ryan and ask if it was too much, no biggie.

[6:46:17AM] m: how much milk is too much milk for cereal

[6:46:25AM] r: if u accidentally use the whole gallon its2much

[6:46:50AM] m: is this 2 much

[6:47:10AM] m: MMS received

[6:47:30AM] r: holy fuck thats too much fucking milk mikey chill

Mikey held in a laugh as Ariel looked at the bowl in horror, milk sloshing over the edges of the soup bowl.

"Hey, uh, Mik- Why do you have so much milk in your cereal you have like, two pieces of actual cereal and three cups of milk in  that bowl."

"And? Ryan says it might be a little bit too much, but I'm not sure. Also, Dad's left for work already, so you technically ca-"

"I know he left. Uh, well Arie-"

"Don't."

"Fine. I'll let her tell you herself."

"Gee, don't make me. You know what it's like to have that happen. "

"Fine. Are you gonna leave him to figure it out on his own? Because that's never gonna work. You're gonna slip somehow or another, and he's gonna find out that you kept something that big from him. So good luck, Ariel." Gerard got up and went back to his bedroom, Iron Maiden to be blasted through speakers and art to be made.

Mikey watched him leave, pupils following the slouching figure of his brother sulk away.

"What's up, Ariel? You're acting weird."

"Am I?" She scratched behind her neck, awkwardly sitting in the wooden dining chair.

"Tell me what's up."

"Fine. I got in a fight with my parents last night, and I ran off. This morning I came home and they were dead. On the couch. I called 911 and your dad was the dispatcher, and he told me to come over. I'm sorry."

"Fuck, Ariel. It's okay. You're allowed to cry."

"I don't cry, Mikey. You know that."

"Ariel, everybody cries."

"I don't cry, Mikey. Haven't since fourth grade. Since I was nine."

"You've cried in the last seven years. I know you have. I know you aren't empty."

"Mikey, just, leave me be. Please. I haven't cried in seven years. That's it. You know that."

"Fine." He plopped the spoon in the bowl of cereal and put it in the sink, walking back to the basement.

Ariel put her hands over her eyes, sighing in pure disbelief of how bad her life would be.

-

Rosie sighed, slinging her backpack over her shoulder as she got on her bike.

She was riding her bike into town to go to the bookstore and meeting up with her friends.

Her parents assumed she was just going into the library, but since her parents banned her from seeing her friends she met in art class outside of school, she had to see them. Even if it was just as a rebellion.

Her dark skin was shiny underneath the white morning sky as her legs pedaled as hard as they could to get her there.

Her red hair was tied in a ponytail, stray curls flying behind her, and her green eyes glinted in the winter sunlight.

She pulled to a stop outside the Barnes & Nobles they always met up at, sliding off the seat and hanging her helmet on the handlebars.

She ran in, her sweater hanging over her wrists like chains, and she saw her friends sitting at a a table.

"Door! Hey, dude, we've been waiting!"

You see, nobody actually called her Rosie. They all called her Door, named for the Neil Gaiman character from her favorite book.

"Hey! I'm sorry I made you guys wait, had to ride my bike."

"Oh, don't worry. It's all rad over here."

Lindsey tucked her blonde hair behind her ears, and her hazel eyes were shining in the bright lights of the bookstore.

"So, my parents let me get my first tattoo." She said, pulling up the sleeve of her grey sweater.

It was a door on her upper arm, with the words, "As old as my tongue, and a little older than my teeth."

"Linds, is that a quote from Neverwhere?"

"Yeah. I mean, you and I, we've been friends since the womb. We're practically blood-related. Sisters for life."

"Yeah. My parents are never gonna let me get a tattoo. Or go to the art school that I got into."

"Which is a shame, since you're phenomenal."

"You're cosmic."

"You're celestial."

"Okay, gal pals, you can chill." Charlie cut in, ruining the two's moment.

They smirked to themself as Libby thunked them.

Kira and Luna were sitting in the corner of the booth, talking about god knows what, and Charlie (not the other one, who is occasionally called Chazza or Mom) was sitting crisscross next to Libby, sipping what was most likely some pretentious drink from Starbucks.

"So," Chazza said. "What's up? We haven’t seen you in ages."

"Well, I was grounded for a while.  Parents caught me sitting on the roof at like, ten at night, and then they were like 'We can't trust you with anything! You're so irresponsible! You could have killed yourself!"

"Oh. That seriously bites."

You could hear Charlie's accent coming through, as well as Charlie's.

Luna stood up and slid from the booth, going to order drinks.

"The usual?" She asked everyone.

Everybody nodded, Charlie throwing her cup behind her in the trash.

-

Pete sighed, running his fingers through his hair as his parents yelled at him again.

He knew he had to go to college and be a lawyer, he knew that he had to graduate high school, and that he couldn't be a lawyer if he was failing chemistry.

When they were done yelling, he huffed off to his bedroom, grabbing his phone off his bed and began writing a text.

[12:18:48PM] p: mikey im failing chemistry care to tutor me ;)

[12:20:15PM] m: you’ve already got it down 2 a t, pete

[12:20:36PM] p: fine even tho dads angry @ me 4 it bc he thinks ive been sneaking out 2 see a girl

{12:21:10PM] m: hahaha

Pete closed his phone and sighed.

[12:30:42PM] m: u kno ariel

[12:32:19PM] p: yea, y?

[12:33:00PM] m: shes over rn at my place, come over

Pete opened his window and crawled out, knowing his parents would be too busy arguing over taxes and Pete and god knows what else.

-

He arrived at the front door of Mikey’s house within minutes, sprinting to get there as fast as possible.

“Mikes?” He said when he opened the door, more of a shaky breath than anything.

“It’s,- Ariel. I haven’t seen you since seventh grade when you had dreads and a bad dye-job.” She grinned.

“Ariel. Jesus, I haven’t actually talked to you since we fought, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Times change. People change, regardless of what others might say about second chances. “ She smiled, ducking her head.

“Yeah. I suppose you’re right, as usual.”

“Come on in, dude.”

He stepped in the house, the upstairs had always been nothing more than a fantasy, and now, he was seeing the kitchen, the couch, everything he had never seen in two years of friendship.

“Uh, is Mikey here? I need to talk to him. Or whatever. You know.”

“You like him, don’t you?”

“N-no. No way. I don’t like him.”

“Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III, I can tell from your body language that you like him, or you’re dating him. I know you.”

“Nothing gets past you, does it?”

She smirked and walked down the stairs, dragging him down with her.

“Mikey,” She said, knocking on his bedroom door. “Your boytoy is here.”

“I am so not his _boytoy_.” Pete said, over exaggerating with his hand on his waist.

“Oh you so are.” She laughed, as Mikey opened the door.

“Pete’s here?” He asked, eyes hopeful.

“Totally.” Pete chimed, ducking his head out from behind Ariel.

“Okay. Now, scram, Ariel.”

“Oh yeah, love you too. You can tell that we were practically siblings growing up.”

“I know, right.”

She waved, and without a sound, she was gone to talk to Gerard.

~


End file.
